Afternoon Tea
by A. Strudel
Summary: Some people poison their lover's tea, Prussia does it a bit differently... warning, smut!  Enjoy!  :D
1. 12

_Wooh, my first smutfic. Erm, well, I have some more written but I plan on rewriting some of it because... I want it to be good. Haha. Well, enjoy!

* * *

_

Ludwig shoved a burgundy-red leather book in Gilbert's hands. Despite his ego being the size of Mount Wank on the German-Austrian border, Gilbert yelped quite unawesomely, caught by surprise of the twenty-pound textbook.

"Entertain yourself," Ludwig told him patronizingly while walking out of the room and reached for his brown coat off the rack. "I'm out for a meeting with Ivan, so don't cause trouble."

Gilbert, reclining on the bed, looked at the huge book, then at Ludwig, then at the huge book, then at Ludwig. "But it's just some boring history drivel!" he cried incredulously.

"Don't worry," Ludwig said. "I'm sure you'll find some interesting information in there."

* * *

Somewhere to the south of the previous conversation, a part of Mozart's Sonata was reverberating around a certain aristocrat's halls. C Major, Third Movement. Whimsical bouncing of piano keys, fingers moving delicately yet at a skillful, speedy pace, a contrast of excited tinkling of the higher range and erratic rumbling of the lower basses.

Roderich didn't even need the music sheet—all he needed was the all-too-familiar smooth ridges of the white and black polished spruce to guide his slim fingers.

Then, somewhere back over there or something there was mad knocking and doorbell-ringing, somewhat chopping the musical bliss down to bits and pieces.

The Austrian got up from his leather seat and groaned, knowing exactly who the person, who did not bother to call in advance or even display common etiquette of knocking a door, at the entrance would be. He strolled through his spacious antechambers, not making a rush to welcome his unexpected company at all. It was sure to be an hour-visit of pain and annoyance.

As soon as Roderich reached the last hall towards the door, Gilbert simply knocked "shave and a haircut." Roderich took hold of the handle, turned the knob, and greeted Gilbert with a deadpan, "What do you want, Gilbert?"

The man in question crossed his arms. "You didn't knock the 'two bits' back! What sort of host are you?" Roderich felt the itching _what sort of guest are you_ in the back of his head.

"I find it silly to knock on my own door," he replied calmly. "Come in," he said between gritted teeth. Gilbert stepped in and strode right by Roderich, outstretching his arms casually.

"Tea. Let's have some tea, Roddy," he suggested. His back was turned to Roderich, so he couldn't have seen the feral grin on his face.

* * *

Roderich eyed the other man funny. "Since when were you interested in tea, Gilbert?" He took a lemon and squeezed it into his cup.

"West gave me this huge-ass book about history and, err," Gilbert explained, hand in pocket, "it said a little somethin' about tea. I don't know, it said something like Austria had great tea or somethin'."

Roderich wasn't quite satisfied. "That's odd, people don't regard us for having good tea, but rather good coffee," he mused. Gilbert was well aware of that.

"Ehh, maybe because they have no taste. Anyway, before West went to his meeting with that freak Ivan, he wanted you to try this fancy sugar. I'm sure that you'd like it, being an aristocrat and all," Gilbert said, brandishing the small jar from his sleeve. Before he unpopped the cork from the top, Roderich jumped in surprise.

"Wait! You're not trying to kill me, are you?" Roderich spoke slowly. "Let me see the label." Gilbert gladly handed over the small jar.

On the label was 'Fine German Sweetener—Made of the Best Elite Sugar Cane' in a black Old English font. "Alright, I'll try some," Roderich said warily.

"Great! Tell me what it tastes like."

Small spoonfuls of the thoroughly grinded white powder were added to the Austrian tea. As Roderich brought the cup to his lips, Gilbert didn't try to suppress his expression. "Well?"

"It… tastes oddly bittersweet, and a bit like cherry," Roderich remarked. "How thoughtful of him. Tell him I said thank you," he finished.

Later that noon they finished their tea time, and Gilbert _still_ wanted to stick around for one reason or another. "It's boring without West at home," he complained. "And I wanna see your ridiculously huge palace so, show me around."

"Fine," Roderich obliged, unbuttoning his coat and hanging it on a nearby rack. "If it will satisfy your curiousity." Gilbert smirked to himself.

The two went out to the gardens, a much brighter-lit expanse of grassy land than the indoor painted hallways, the flaming yellow glare overhanging above the citadel like a lamp, plots of kelly-green sod arranged faultlessly along a clean, white path of stone, patches of grass seeming to be never-ending across the distance.

"Nice lawn," Gilbert commented. Roderich ignored it.

"Let's get inside quickly," Roderich said. "I'm feeling quite warm and the sun really is scorching." The men went through the heavy black double doors again, in the softly-lit atmosphere that made everything seem to glow a golden yellow from silver-cupped peach wax candles lining against the walls.

The palace's hallway stretched for more than the eye can tell, with doors left and right leading to mysteriously various rooms. After about the twentieth door they passed by, Gilbert asked, "Why don't ya show me any of these side rooms?"

"They're just guest bedrooms, usually for the royal orchestras that come over for the annual Mozart competition in the winter," Roderich informed. "All of them are empty right now."

"Hmmph, what a waste of space," Gilbert muttered to no one in particular. "You coulda installed a trampoline or something."

As they drew nearer and nearer to the end of the hallway, it was becoming apparent that Roderich was uncomfortable. At first he started fanning himself with his hand and made remarks about the unusually warm weather. Then his normally flawless speech soon had plenty of "um"s and "err"s and a bit of stuttering. And following that Roderich's gait became stilted, his legs moving somewhat stiffly.

"I'm sorry, um, but I need to attend to my bedroom for a moment," Roderich said, voice slightly quavery. Was the world shaking or was he? "I apologize for being a rude host."

"Sure thing, Roddy," Gilbert said, a silent victory in his head taking place. Roderich rushed off ahead of him, while Gilbert pulled out a torn map from his pocket. _History books are great, aren't they?_ he thought to himself. _The master bedroom is over _here_ so I just need to take this route. Roddy's probably taking _this_ path so I won't have to worry about running into him._

Hundreds of paces and five minutes later (well, map-reading is a breeze to Gilbert—how else would he great at fighting?), the Prussian was met with an enormous set of oak doors. _What's up with the double doors everywhere? Save half the wood for money to buy weapons, for God's sake.

* * *

_

Roderich raced off ahead of Gilbert, hoping that he wouldn't follow or protest. Thankfully, he didn't, and all would go well if he had stayed there. It wouldn't even hurt if he looked through the various bedrooms as long Roderich could somehow rid himself of this spontaneous uncomfort.

After a minute or so, knowing for sure Gilbert was far behind, he kneaded himself on his trousers while briskly making his way to his bedroom, the pleasure welling in his belly and desperately wanting to be satisfied. _That sugar must have done something, I know it must have, and I doubt Ludwig would gift me such a wayward thing! _Roderich's legs felt more and more unstable and it was becoming harder to stay upright without having to run, but—ha!, a nobleman running in his own palace, how silly is that? But Roderich felt his legs take longer strides and lift his body, shaking and nervous and just so _wanting_.

Finally, _at last_ he reached his master bedroom, pried open one door and slammed it back, not even bothering to lock because_ God, God why am I so bothered_ and he unbuckled his troublesome belt and layers of pants and socks and undergarments hit the floor like a _thud_ and soon he was fisting his growing erection with his right hand, the other wiping the sheen of sweat from his face, his eyes closed and his vision shrouded in darkness, his libido the only occupation in his mind. He slowly moved his hand up, almost afraid at the amount of pleasure radiating within him, exhaling a shaky sigh, legs slightly bent and quivering.

And then he heard the sound of a wooden door being swung open followed by footsteps and he opened his eyes and saw Gilbert.

"Damn, Roderich, I think you've having a little trouble there."


	2. 22

_Holy shiz it's been a LONG, LONG time. Finally I've gotten off my ass to work on this. :P Also, if you want to imagine what Austria would sound like during sex... listen to the Finder Series' Drama CD. The uke is the seiyuu (Akira Sasanuma) for Austria, wahaha!_

_Also, there should totally be a list of music to write by. Writing this with Mahler's 7__th__ Symphony, 4__th__ movement was helpful, haha. Got me in the ~mood~._

_

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With a quick, panicked swerve away from Gilbert, Roderich shuddered visibly, his long, white button-up shirt barely grazing across his naked bottom in a manner that made him seem a bit helpless. Gilbert stood there, wearing a small, satisfied smile he usually reserved for winnings on the battlefield, arms crossed, a hand disposing the crumpled map onto the floor.

"I believe I specifically told you to stay there," Roderich said after a long, awkward silence and a mustering of courage.

"Hmmph! No you didn't," Gilbert said abruptly. "You just apologized for 'being a rude host', and now you won't even show your face to me. So what's the matter, hm?" With every soft push on the dark red carpet Roderich felt growing closer to him, he grew redder and redder as the realization that Gilbert had this planned all along hit him like an oncoming car.

Just as Roderich opened his mouth to protest, Gilbert wrapped his strong arms around his waist, his face nuzzled against Roderich's neck. "Since you really don't want me to look at you, I'm sure you don't mind surprises," he said in mock bitterness. He reached under Roderich's shirt, warm hands stroking his smooth chest, teasing at his nipples playfully when Roderich made a loud gasp.

"I k-knew something was strange," Roderich attempted to say with venom, but came out as a hot, bothered sigh. "Take your hands, off me this instant." A soft pant as Gilbert ground his hardening erection on his bare ass.

"Then push me away," he challenged. In a swift maneuver he positioned Roderich toward the bed and dragged him across the regal, white sheets. "I can't wait to stain these with your come," Gilbert muttered into Roderich's ear from behind, kissing and leaving light pink marks along his ear. As muddled as Roderich's mind and libido-overtaken judgment was, he clenched his fists in some sort of shame-a man of power, of class, succumbing to this incredibly sexy, take-charge, skillful man-err, bastard-, manipulated by Gilbert's sultry whisperings, sifting under his light, firm touches here and there. "So stop pretending-"

Roderich cried out with a sharp Ah! as Gilbert guided a lubricated finger into him slowly, so hazed that he did not realize that Gilbert had taken the lubricant out in the first place. "Don't tighten," Gilbert ordered, inserting a second finger, stretching slightly to make Roderich moan with a gratifying blend of pleasure and pain, prodding assertively. Shortly he pulled out, and Roderich embarrassingly caught himself sighing in disappointment. It was not for long, though, as the head of Gilbert's cock tapped and rubbed along the edge of Roderich's entrance, emitting a gasp of surprise from the blushing man. Soon it stretched Roderich, more than Roderich had ever felt with Gilbert's fingers, greased and making wet sounds.

"A-ah! Ohh, mmm..."

"Goddammit, ease up! You're so damn tight I can hardly move," Gilbert breathed tersely, his voice the only thing Roderich could discern other than Gilbert's thick cock making way into him. Loosening at last, Gilbert pushed himself further into Roderich, a deep groan in unison from the two men. He pulled back and pushed in again until a steady momentum seemed to be established, Gilbert, his hands on Roderich's firm ass, controlling the pace, and Roderich, whose face was buried in the soft white linen he bunched around, clutching them.

"G-Gilbert," Roderich panted beneath him, his voice a bit smothered from the various cloths muffling his mouth. "I want to see your face," he said quietly.

"What's that?" Gilbert teased, relentlessly pushing in.

"May I please," Roderich tried to articulate, each syllable paused by "mm", "see your face."

"It's about time," Gilbert answered, pulling out slowly, nudging the other man on the shoulder. Roderich rolled over his sheets, surprised to see Gilbert with a few specks of sweat, his face also florid from pleasure, that usually confident, sleazy smirk replaced by a husky, low gaze.

As Gilbert leaned down to enter once more, Roderich wrapped his arms around his partner's neck, failing to suppress an unexpected cry when Gilbert thrust in with more vigor than before. "More," Roderich breathed, and gripped Gilbert's back tighter as he felt his thick, warm cock sink deeper within him, gradually filling him, satiating him. He knew he could refrain from doing so, but he tightened around his cock, and instead of the complaint he thought he would receive, Gilbert exhaled a breathless, throaty moan.

Pulling back gently, the sounds of faint breaths music to Roderich's ears, Gilbert plunged in again, receiving another gasp from his lover beneath him. "More," Roderich reminded again, more urgently. He embraced Gilbert tighter, bringing Gilbert closer to him so that they met chest to chest, and smothered his white-haired rival lovingly with slow, sloppy, opened-mouth kisses as wet sounds increasingly more slick and lewd where he and Gilbert were conjoined. Thirsting for more friction, Roderich rocked his hips against the rhythm of Gilbert's, the sliding, slick noises so obscene that even Gilbert felt compelled to kiss back with equal fire and passion.

Suddenly Roderich gasped loudly in Gilbert's mouth, clenching so deliciously around his cock, swearing a few words in harsh German. "What was that," Gilbert asked heatedly.

"Again," Roderich urged, reduced to few-worded sentences. "Harder, deeper!" Gilbert thrust in as much as he could sink into, rubbing up against the hilt with the wet head of his cock assertively, Roderich cursing and crying out, "There!"

Without hesitation or unneeded words, he pulled back and rammed forcefully in again, sure to aim for that spot that made Roderich tighten around him and beg for his fucking. "_Mehr, mehr, liebehaber,"_ Roderich gasped, his German barely comprehensible beyond a fragmentation of quick syllables. Gilbert complied wordlessly, their two bodies grinding seamlessly.

"I'm close," Gilbert breathed. "If you want me to-"

"N-no," Roderich interrupted between pauses, "come in me."

With a guttural moan, Gilbert grew stiff, filling Roderich's hole with his hot semen and riding it out, deeply satisfied when he pulled out and a white string of come followed. Roderich, crying out passionately, came onto the sheets as well, and basked in the afterglow as Gilbert collapsed on top of him, their heat emanating together in peace.

"You... idiot," Roderich panted, trying to maintain a shred of dignity. He expected a punch in the face but was nipped in the ear.

"Says the one who wanted me to come inside," Gilbert chuckled. "Man, you don't know how good that feels."

"... mention this to no one," Roderich said.

"Don't worry about that," Gilbert reassured.

* * *

"'Sup, West," Gilbert called from his sofa when Ludwig swung open the door and entered the room, hanging his jacket onto the coat rack.

"You didn't cause any trouble, did you?" He immediately interrogated. "Hope that book entertained you in some sort of way."

"Yeah, it did," Gilbert answered sarcastically, "'_Poisons around the World_ was the most interesting book ever, West. It was so interesting, I had to call up Roddy to share what I learned."

"Glad to hear it," Ludwig said, ignoring his tone of voice. "Maybe next time when I'm out, you can read _Prison Torture in Various Cultures._"

Gilbert tilted his head in thought. _Hmm..._


End file.
